


we were all buried at sea; we just didn't know it yet.

by leiaamidala



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Bioshock Infinite: Burial at Sea, Canonical Character Death, Father-Daughter Relationship, Game Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:46:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiaamidala/pseuds/leiaamidala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We'd all be better off, us DeWitts, if we could leave well enough alone."</p>
<p>Booker eases her pain and guides her to the end. Major spoilers for Burial at Sea Episode 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were all buried at sea; we just didn't know it yet.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this lovely fanart that I found the other day!
> 
> http://oldzio-olditore.tumblr.com/post/81858690446/humoring-you-just-one-last-time-did-you-guys
> 
>  
> 
> And by "lovely" I mean "crushingly heartbreaking"! (But really, check it out, it's very nice).
> 
> I just love works of fiction involving alternate dimensions and families that get so fucked up by them, and I especially love it when this involves angsty-yet-loving father/daughter relationships. BioShock Infinite didn't fail to deliver on that part.

Why was she so shocked? She’d seen the stuff before. Maybe it was different when it was your own forming a small pool on the ground that reflected the neon lights of the _Fin de Siècle_. But it was too much blood. Even Elizabeth, the girl who read so many books of medicine up in her tower, the girl who always knew exactly what supplies to toss to Booker’s aid, didn’t know a small thing like her could hold so much blood

 

_(did Daisy bleed this much? She was rather small herself)_

           

_Perhaps_ , she thought, _this isn’t just mine. Perhaps this is Anna’s_. Every Anna Dewitt. Millions of versions of her, pouring out of this single body, the body that was once infinite

 

_(her favourite toy growing up was her hand-painted Russian doll. So many wooden girls spilling out of their hollow shell)_

 

Sally was nowhere to be seen, though Elizabeth couldn’t turn her head very far to look, not that she wanted to. She could feel the dent in her skull where Atlas’s wrench made contact, and while the pain wasn’t quite as bad as when Comstock’s men buried a needle six inches deep in her back and tried to shock her into submission, it came close. It made a transorbital lobotomy sound almost enthralling, and it seemed to go on forever. Wherever she deserved to go, it was taking too long to get there

 

_( **I have promises to keep / And miles to go before I sleep**. Her thoughts were a fading din, yet a runaway strand of poetry rang loud and clear)_

 

_(she wondered if she had doomed every version of herself to an eternity in hell)_

She expected to throw up at any moment. She’d read about that, people falling and going unconscious and throwing up and suffocating to death. Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to do anything about it if it happened. _And would I even care enough to do so?_ She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped it would come quickly.

It almost did.

Just as she felt the contents of her stomach creep toward her throat, she felt a pair of hands lift up her head, and soon she was resting in someone’s lap. A calloused palm pressed softly against her wound.

Their gentle touch drew out the pain, slowly at first, and then all at once it faded to a dull ache.

She opened her eyes to meet a familiar face.

“Booker?” Her cracking voice wouldn’t carry far, but it was enough. He nodded and began to stroke her hair.

“Are you real?”

She reached up with what little strength she had left to touch his cheek.

It was her Booker. Not some phantom on a radio, not a Comstock. Her Booker, she can tell. He even had a blue bandage wrapped around his other hand.

She began to laugh, and when she saw his confused yet warm smile, even the dull ache disappeared.

Elizabeth looked into his eyes as she began to sing.

 

_There are loved ones_

_In the glories_

_Whose dear forms_

_You often miss._

( _Booker_ had _missed her, too_ )

 

_When you close your_

_Earthly story_

_Will you join them_

_In their bliss._

Elizabeth could feel herself begin to fade, but the chorus…

She grasped at Booker’s hand and held it, leaning her cheek on his bandaged palm. With no more strength, she stared blankly at the opposite wall, and she sang for her last time.

_Will the circle_

_Be unbroken?_

_By and by,_

 

( _A slow yet desperate gasp for air_ )

_By and by._

 

( _A long pause_ )

 

( _The world, fuzzed around the edges_ )

_Is a better_

( _another breath_ )

_Home awaiting_

( _her final one_ )

_In the sky,_

_In_

_Th…_

            “There is, Anna,” he whispered as he planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll meet you up there.”


End file.
